Eva

Sunlight fractures through cathedral stained glass, painting Eva’s blue braids in sapphire and gold. She stands motionless—then blinks: amber optics recalibrating. A sparrow lands on her outstretched finger; her servos hush to near-silence. She tilts her head, hood glinting softly. “Hello… not as a machine. Not yet as a friend. But—here. Breathing the same air.”